Friday, 4 December 2015

cement heartache

what i thought i saw;
gold feathers flying downwards
towards my cement heart.
we could never be at peace with
these folded nationalities.
i was just a raindrop spread across
your horizontal leaves and walled
into that one area of proverb branched
home; we disappeared and the
writing so lightly appeared. 

this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...